What Could Have Been
by At Some Actor's West Side Loft
Summary: Basically, just moments between Rick/Andrea that I think could have realistically happened on the show. I don't think the two of them had enough scenes together, which is a travesty, considering their chemistry. M for later developments. Reviews are like Glenn and Maggie-sweet.
1. The Shooting Range

Rick had always appreciated how seriously Andrea took target practice. The other women hadn't found it to their liking at all. They, like plenty of others in wars before, were pretending society would return to its normal state sooner rather than later. Andrea, meanwhile, accepted the lessons the same way she would a particularly challenging case: With grim determination that she'd prove to be adequate, at least, for the task.

As Rick and Shane gave the group instructions, she nodded along, making mental notes. "Feet shoulder width apart. Arms extended. Eyes on your target. Always be aware of your surroundings," she whispered to herself.

The two men stepped back to supervise the first efforts.

"Looks like we got our work cut out for us," Shane noted, his face clouding.

"Lot of work," Rick agreed.

Shane walked over to Carol (who just happened to be standing next to Lori and Carl), so Rick decided he would go help Andrea. With her hair pulled back in a no nonsense ponytail and those blue eyes burning into her target, she looked like she was made for this world. Rick frowned. "_Kinda a stupid thought, isn't it? No one's made for this. People just…adapt."_ He studied the can she was aiming at, and was pleased to see it was riddled with bullet holes. _"Not bad. Still, her form needs work." _He walked over to Andrea and tapped her on the shoulder as she was reloading. She yelped and whipped around, pointing the currently useless gun in Rick's face.

"Oh, Rick," she sighed. "Sorry, I…"

"That's why we said to always have your eyes and ears open," he gently chastised her. "You couldn't hear me coming up behind you?"

"Sorry," she muttered, rubbing the toe of a sneaker in the dirt.

"It's alright. At least you aren't trigger happy, or else we'd have a pretty big mess right now." He grinned.

She chuckled. "Yeah. Well…" The serious face reappeared. "How am I doing?"

"Good. Real good. Go back to shooting. Shane and I are taking a closer look to help all you."

Andrea finished reloading her pistol and fired off more rounds. 4 hits. 2 misses. She gave a tight smile, allowing herself to be pleased with the tiny triumph. Rick studied the shots, then stepped behind her.

"You've got to keep your arms extended," he instructed. "Otherwise, you're gonna miss your target." He placed a hand on her left triceps, gently urging it upwards and forward. Her sinewy arms responded to his touch, and she fired again. A miss. Another miss elicited a frown and a sigh of frustration from the blonde.

Rick stepped back. "I think not doing it yourself is throwing you off." He slipped his hands off her sun soaked skin. "Keep your arms straight, though."

"Like this?" she asked. A light, dewy sweat glistened on her bare forearms.

"Yes, exactly like that," he encouraged. She squeezed off another two shots. Both hits. Tried her luck a few more times. All aces.

"Good. Very good." Rick smiled at her quietly smug grin as he walked away to go help Dale a bit.

"Thanks." She smiled back, then resumed her shooting.

_Another day, another lesson._

Rick and Shane discussed the women's progress over breakfast. "If we ever face a mass invasion, we're up shit creek, man," Shane commented darkly. "Lori, God bless her, can't shoot to save her life, and Carol's hardly any better."

Rick decided to ignore the first part of Shane's sentence and replied, "Yeah. It's tough. We might have to spend more time on this than we thought."

Shane took a swig of water and nodded. "Yeah. At least Dale and T-Dog can hold their own. How's Andrea?"

"She's good."

Shane's eyebrows shot into his curly mass of black hair. "Really? Lawyer girl can shoot?" He whistled. "Well, ya learn somethin new everyday."

After breakfast, the group resumed their practice. Lori, of course, was making a fuss over Carl joining. He hadn't participated in the last session, as he'd been gathering firewood with T-Dog and Daryl.

"He's just a kid!" She argued. "I don't want him knowing how to do this, he could hurt himself…"

Rick and Shane sighed. "Look, Lori, be reasonable," Shane asked. "He might need to defend himself sometime. We're not asking him to go hunt or-"

She cut him off. "I wasn't talking to you," she responded coolly. "I was talking to my _husband."_

Rick made sure not to roll his eyes. _"Great start to the morning, being dragged into an argument by your wife_." He hesitated, then responded, "I'm sorry, Lori, but Shane's right. He-we-Hell, everyone needs to learn how to use a gun under these circumstances. He's not a dumb kid, he knows they aren't toys. He'll be careful, I'll be sure of it." She huffed and walked away. "It's not like I'm gonna give him a pistol or anything," he called after her as she stormed off. She didn't answer, just kept walking to the makeshift shooting range.

"Jesus. Must be her time of the month," Shane joked.

"Must be," Rick sighed, resisting the urge to vocalize his less than kind thought: "_When __**isn't **__it?" _

"I mean…I get it, she's upset that her little boy has to use a gun," Shane said. "But still…"

"It's a necessity," Rick finished his friend's thought.

As practice resumed, Lori was steadfastly ignoring Rick, so he decided to check how Andrea was doing. Her shooting was nearly mechanical at this point. She needed a new challenge-but was it smart to go off to the woods alone?

"_Well, not like we weren't planning on this," _Rick thought. He and Shane had agreed that everyone needed some practice hitting moving targets-just not walkers, of course. That idea, however, had been derailed by the generally horrendous showing they'd witnessed a few days ago. Rick had a feeling that Andrea could handle it, though.

"You ready to shoot something besides a can?" he asked.

This time, she'd picked up on his footsteps, and wasn't startled by his approach. "I think so."

"Alright. There are definitely a few squirrels in the woods nearby, according to Daryl. If they go too deep, we let them go. Don't want to get surrounded by walkers. If you're nervous, just let me know, we can come back here. Alright?"

"I think I can handle it, but thanks for the concern, Andy Griffith," she laughed. And so, after informing the rest of the group of where they were headed, the two of them departed for the woods.

"So…where'd you learn to shoot?" Rick asked quietly, not wanting to announce their presence to any animals or walkers.

"Here," she answered simply.

"Really? You seem like a natural. Come from being a country girl?"

She blushed. "Thanks, but no. Dale helped me when he could before you got here. My dad taught Amy and me how to fish, but shooting wasn't his thing. I still got his gun. He thought I'd need it for protection, but he never taught me how to shoot, never went hunting. Blood made him uncomfortable." She hesitated and considered, for a brief second, making some flippant remark about the apocalypse. It made her feel sick. Instead, she smiled, reminiscing, and said, "God, the first time I had my period, let me tell you…"

"I'd rather you didn't," Rick cut her off, and they laughed.

"And it's just…well, he always thought, if a fish is dumb enough to fall for the bait, what's the harm in eating it?" she continued, her voice faltering a bit. "And you can always throw it back." She cast her eyes downward. God, she was so stupid, feeling sentimental about killing a squirrel. Hell, she'd bashed, whacked, and practically decapitated things that used to be human beings. But that was different. A squirrel would always just be a squirrel. A little reminder of what life used to be like. She didn't want to kill that.

He stared. "Look, Andrea, if you don't want to do this…"

"No, I should," she interrupted him. "You and Shane are right, we all have to learn." A small smile twitched back up. "Even Carl."

Despite the whole "we're trying to survive the apocalypse" thing that put a cloud of doom over their lives every day, the woman knew how to make Rick smile. "Thanks." They finally (Rick was no Daryl when it came to tracking animals) stumbled upon a squirrel. Andrea quickly fired off three shots, but they all missed.

"Hey, hold it," Rick whispered. "Slow, easy movements. It's an animal, remember. They're a lot more used to avoiding threats than we are. Just follow it with your gun." She followed his calming voice. "That's it." She lost her patience and fired. Another miss.

"It's too small, and too fast," she hissed. "Walkers are slow."

There was a bit of an edge to Rick's voice now. "Yeah, and if we're surrounded, we can't afford to waste time-or bullets."

"But they're a bigger…" Her voice died as she realized, no, the human head wasn't that big of a target.

"No. You're not aiming for that much of a walker, Andrea, remember that," he whispered. "You're aiming for here…" He ran a finger just above her eyebrows. "Or above here…" His finger slid down around her head, down the base of her neck. "Now…try again."

She took aim, tracking the squirrel's movements with her gun for two, four, seven seconds, tracing its leaps and turns. And finally…she connected, sending a bullet into the creature's chest.

"Well, looks like I got Daryl a snack," she laughed nervously. She'd…she'd just killed another living creature.

Rick noticed her discomfort and put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

She brushed the apology off. "No. It's…part of this world, now, isn't it? It's changing, I'll have to change with it," she whispered. Her tone went back to normal. "And thanks for the help, Rick."

"Anytime," he responded. He rubbed the back of his neck, then admitted, "Nice that we've got another good shot around."

"That was a bit more luck than skill, truthfully," she replied. Despite the fact that she was carrying a dead squirrel, she couldn't stop smiling as the two of them made their way back to camp without incident.


	2. Fishing

_Season Two. Before the farm._

"Has anyone seen Carl?" Lori asked worriedly as she came back from washing clothes.

"Er…no, can't say I have," Glenn answered.

"Rick!" She called to her husband, who had just returned from a less than successful hunting trip with Daryl. "Have you seen Carl?"

He saw the anxiety etched into Lori's face. "No, but I'm sure he's okay. He has to be around here somewhere…"

Dale broke the tension. "I just remembered, he's down fishing with Andrea."

Lori sighed. "Thank you, Dale." Turning to Rick, she asked, "Could you go get him, please? It's nearly time for dinner, and God knows how long they've been gone…"

"Sure, Lori," he replied, quite happy for an excuse to avoid the inevitable mess that occurred whenever the group tried to cobble edible plants, berries, and what little meat they had into a meal.

As Dale had predicted, Rick found Andrea and his son in the boat. "We're getting ready fo-"

Andrea whipped her head around and silenced him with an icy glare, pressing a finger to her lips. Her gaze softened when she saw who it was, but she still wanted the quiet. Carl was trying to reel in a huge herring, and it had been evading them for the better part of an hour. At last, it took his bait. The poor kid nearly fell out of the boat to maintain his grip on the line, but he managed to bring it in next to the boat, and Andrea triumphantly scooped it into a net.

"Some catch you got there," Rick observed.

"Yeah! Andrea, can I have it for dinner?" He asked excitedly.

She laughed. "It's a bit big for one person to eat, Carl, but I'll make sure everyone knows who caught it. Sound good?"

"For sure," he nodded at the arrangement. "Dad, look at all the fish we caught!" And, indeed, it looked as though everyone's worries about dinner for the night-heck, for the next few nights-would be alleviated.

They brought the boat back to shore, and Carl ran a bit ahead of the two, eager to eat.

Rick chuckled. "Sorry you've more or less become his unofficial babysitter for a while now."

"It's no problem," she laughed. "He's a good kid. Not perfect, of course," she added when Rick rolled his eyes at the predictable first line. "But really, considering how things are, he's turned out okay. More than okay. And that says a lot about you and Lori," she said quietly.

"Thanks, Andrea. It's just…I _do _worry about him, a hell of a lot more than I let on."

"Lori does more than enough of that for you, I'd say," she quipped, then slapped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry."

He gave a noncommittal grunt. "Eh. Can't say I disagree. But there's always a thought in the back of my mind, this dark thought, of: What if we die and he survives? What happens then?" Andrea opened her mouth to protest, but, like an overly aggressive driver, he cut her off sharply. "And don't tell me to stop worrying. Because it could happen."

"I know that," she responded tersely. "Did you forget about Amy?"

That was a sledgehammer to his chest. "Andrea. I'm…I'm sorry."

"Save it," she muttered bitterly. "It's not your fault, God knows you've got more than enough shit on your plate." She swallowed hard, then regained her train of thought. "I wanted to tell you…I know what it's like, worrying about someone you'd been taking care of if that happened. And it sucks, because you have to trust the people around you, and it's hard. But…we're better than nothing, right?" she asked.

"Yeah. A _hell_ of a lot better than nothing." A grim smile played on his face. "Thank you, Andrea." He swung his hand dangerously close to hers, then repeated the motion a few times. He wasn't reaching out to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. Nope. He hadn't come to like Andrea more than any of the other women he was living with now. Definitely not.

"Sure," she replied, trying to avoid looking into the blue eyes that reminded her of summer skies and lemonade and lazy afternoons spent "reading books" with guys in hammocks by the pond…


End file.
